Bitter Tea and Burned Roses
by ChaosDisclosed
Summary: Modern Human AU. Recently widowed and single father Francis Bonnefoy moves to England to begin a new life with his son. He meets Arthur Kirkland, a divorced and single father, and their boys bond. As if starting a new life and avoiding ex-spouses wasn't difficult enough, their feelings for one another grow and become difficult to face.
1. Chapter 1

Francis sat at his kitchen table, idly sipping his third cup of cold coffee from the early morning brew. His tired eyes poured over job ads from that morning's paper, the same as he had done the previous afternoon. His eyes flicked from the paper to the clock ticking away on the wall.

"_Almost three hours past noon already…?"_

He leaned back in the chair and groaned, his near-empty stomach begging for more than just bitter coffee. Ignoring his hunger, he spread his hand over the last column of job ads. One in particular had caught his eye, he read it again and again:

"Sous Chef needed at The Bowman

Will be expected to plan and organize weekly menus, coordinate kitchen operation and procedures, and perform tasks at discretion of executive chef. Applicants preferred with at least four years of experience with several roles in the kitchen. Will be expected to work at 40 hrs. per week, possibly weekends off.

Please contact Scott Kirkland at—"

The familiar sound of the front door creaking open pulled Francis from his trance. "Papa! I'm home!" Francis beamed as he heard his little boy come in. Soon enough, little Matthew flew into the kitchen and into his father's arms.

"Welcome home, Mon petit chou! How was school today?" Francis held him close, stroking his soft golden hair. Matthew's hair had always reminded him of his wife's hair.

"It was great! I got to play with Alfred again!" Matthew spoke with much enthusiasm, his hands moving wildly. Francis smiled, placing the small boy in a chair at the table.

"Oh, did you now? And how was Alfred?" Francis asked, elated to hear that his son was able to make a friend.

"He asked to trade lunches with me again 'cause his daddy doesn't cook very good. I told him my papa was the best cook in the world so we just shared my lunch!" Matthew said, smiling radiantly.

Francis smiled broadly, "That was very kind of you, Mattie! Should I start packing you two lunches then?" He laughed, tickling Matthew in the process. Matthew shrieked, giggling between screams.

Francis continued to listen to Matthew talk about his day as he prepared an afternoon snack for them to share. He nibbled on a piece of bread, careful not to drop it from the corner of his mouth, as he made a sandwich for Matthew. "It sounds like you and Alfred have a lot in common, Mon petit."

Matthew smiled as Francis put the plate on the table, reaching for it immediately, "We do, Papa!"

Francis laughed as he sat down, "Like what, hm?"

Matthew took a large bite of his sandwich before answering, "After I told him about you, Papa…" He started to speak slowly, looking at his father as if he was unsure about something, "Alfred asked where _ma maman_ was…"

Francis straightened his posture immediately, his heart pounding and nearly turning to ice as concern dominated his thoughts. "…A-And what did you tell him, Mon petit?"

Matthew brought his little hands into his lap, fidgeting slightly, "I…I don't think I should tell you, Papa…You would be sad again…"

Francis mustered the most reassuring smile he could, despite his blood pounding in his ears, "Do you remember what we talked about, Mon petit?" He paused and took in a deep breath, Matthew struggled to meet his father's gaze but nodded slowly, "You can talk to me about anything, no matter what it is. It is very important that we talk about our feelings, that's how we feel better about things."

Matthew nodded again before he continued, "I told him thatI didn't have _ma maman_ anymore." He hesitated to continue, almost as if he were about to cry. Francis moved Mattie into his lap as the little one continued to speak, "You know what he told me, Papa?" To his father's surprise, a smile spread on his lips, "Alfred doesn't have a _maman_ either."

Francis pressed his lips to Matthew's forehead, recognizing how the relief that gleamed in his son's eyes. "You do have quite a bit in common with Alfred, Mon petit." He sighed, speaking softly, "I'll bet he has even more in common with you, other than just that." He pressed another kiss to Matthew's forehead, placing him back in his own chair.

"He really likes ham!" Matthew continued, taking another bite of food. "He tried to eat my whole ham sandwich!" The little boy talked with his mouth full, "And we both think peaches are icky."

"I'll remember not to put peaches in your lunch from now on." Francis chuckled, wiping crumbs from Matthew's chin. He smiled, noticing that Matthew was becoming more engaged since he began to open up more.

Matthew's eyes lit up for just a moment, "Oh, Papa! Could Alfred come over to play after school tomorrow?"

Francis' eyes widened with delight, his son had never asked such a thing, even before he had moved to a new environment. "Yes! Yes, of course! Tell Alfred to have his dad drop him off anytime tomorrow afternoon."

"_Merci beaucoup, Papa!" _Matthew smiled happily, chattering more in French.

"_De rien."_ Francis smiled and tousled Mattie's hair, "Now, finish up your snack and start on your homework. After that, how about helping me with dinner?"

"Okay!" Matthew grinned and ate the last bit of his sandwich. He ran to grab his school bag, wondering about what sort of trouble would eventually follow Alfred tomorrow.

The next afternoon, Matthew waited by the window in the front living room and watched the people passing by on the street below. He clung to his white teddy bear, giving a shy smile to an old woman that noticed him, waving feebly as she hobbled by. He scanned the small part of the street he could see for anyone that looked Alfred.

The smell of freshly baked macarons and lemon curd wafted from the kitchen, though Matthew hardly noticed. In the kitchen, Francis hurriedly finished filling each macaron with lemon curd, his inner chef berating him every step of the way for not taking more time to craft the delicate treat. He sighed and put down the knife, wiping excess lemon curd on his apron.

"What time did you say they would be here, Mattie?" Francis called to his son in the other room, removing stray cooking instruments from the kitchen table.

Matthew left his perch at the window and joined his father in the kitchen, now enticed by the smell of the freshly baked treats. "He said that his dad would walk him over after school, but that was all he said." He explained, sitting on a chair close to the workspace on the counter. He pulled his little legs to his chest, watching his father prepare more macarons with a certain adoration.

Francis chuckled, half-exasperated and half-relieved that Alfred and his father were not already there. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Matthew eyeing the prepared sunny-colored treats on the counter behind him. "Would you like one, Mon petit?" He kept his eyes on his work as he heard Matthew leave the chair.

"I should wait until Alfred gets here, Papa." Matthew said rather softly before turning on his heels to return to the window.

"Whatever you say." Francis chuckled, seeing a small hand appear from behind the counter from his peripheral vision. "I can see you, Mon petit chou." Matthew's giggles were accompanied by laughter from his father as he snatched a cookie and made a dash for the living room.

Matthew took his stuffed bear back into his arms, nibbling away on the sofa. He turned around, now facing the front window of the room, determined to remain vigilant. Just as he took the last bite, he recognized a young and booming voice outside. He leaned forward, just as Alfred and a man he assumed to be his father passed by the window.

"Papa! They're here!" Matthew yelled, jumping off the sofa and racing to the front hall.

_"Merde!"_ Francis whispered, kicking off his house slippers and throwing his unsightly apron on an empty chair in the corner. He rushed into the front hallway just as there was a firm knock on the door, slipping on a pair of loafers. "Are you ready, Mattie?" Francis asked, Matthew ducking his head out from the living room. The little boy nodded, hiding behind his father before he opened the door.

Francis smiled at his little one, wearing the same charming smile as he opened the door to greet their guests. _"Bienvenue!"_

"I beg your pardon?" A man about the same height as Francis stood before them, his emerald eyes blinking in confusion. He held his son's hand firmly, whom was giggling excitedly beside him. "I'm sorry, I don't know French…"

"It means 'Welcome', come in! Come in!" Francis ushered the two in, chattering something in French to his son. Matthew smiled nervously, though he still clung to his father's side.

"Hi, Alfred…" Matthew spoke quietly, cautiously stepping out from behind Francis' legs.

"MATTIE!" Alfred yelled, his jacket falling at his father's feet. He threw his arms around Matthew without hesitation.

"Alfred, use your indoor voice!" His father said, quickly bending down to pick up Alfred's jacket. "I'm sorry. Alfred can be a bit…rambunctious." He sighed, holding his hand out to Francis. "Arthur Kirkland, and you…?"

Francis chuckled, shaking Arthur's hand. "It's no problem, boys will be boys, _non_? _Je m'appelle _Francis."

Arthur sighed again, taking off his jacket and placing it on the hooks behind him. "As I said before, I'm afraid my French is rather horrid."

"Are you Mattie's dad?" Alfred looked to Francis, still practically shouting.

"_Oui,_ I am Mattie's Papa. You must be Alfred." Francis smiled, placing his hand on top of Alfred's head.

"Yeah! That's my dad!" He pointed at Arthur, "He burns everything he cooks!"

Francis fought to restrain his laughter as Arthur began to chide his son, "How many times have I told you that it's rude to point, Alfred? And my cooking is not that bad!"

Alfred laughed raucously, turning his attention back to Matthew, "What do you want to do, Mattie?"

Matthew practically jumped as all eyes were on him, "Oh, uh…I could…show you my room?"

"Lead the way!" Alfred yelled, taking Matthew by the hand. Matthew smiled and guided Alfred upstairs, glancing back at his father a few times. Francis smiled back, tucking a stray piece of his curly blond hair behind his ear. Once the boys were upstairs, Francis was met with yet another sigh from Arthur.

"Well, _Monsieur_ Kirkland, would you care for a cup of tea?" Francis turned to Arthur, a charming smile still plastered on his face.

"Just call me Arthur." He paused for a moment, realizing he had been offered tea, "I'd love one, please."

"Sure thing, _Arthur_." Francis spoke his name with a bit of a song in his voice, smiling as he made his way into the kitchen. Arthur followed, muttering something under his breath. "Help yourself to a macaron, they're on the counter." Francis said, his back to Arthur as he filled the tea kettle.

Arthur gingerly picked one up his eyes widening in amazement, "I've never seen them in this hue before. They smell of fresh lemon zest and …"

"Just try one. They're almost as bright as you, hm?" Francis turned around with a wink.

Arthur's cheeks turned red; he did his best not to acknowledge Francis' flirting. He took a bite of the cookie, his eyes widening once more. "This is amazing! Fresh lemon curd?"

Francis leaned over the counter, his chin resting on his fist. "Yes, of course! Using store-bought would be a sin!"

Arthur was incredulous, "You mean you actually made this yourself? The macaron as well?"

_"Oui!" _Francis chuckled and repeated, "Anything else would be a sin."

"What's your secret?" Arthur asked, now genuinely interested.

Francis motioned for him to lean to closer, Arthur did as he was asked. He whispered, "I'm French, we know everything about cooking."

"Oh, sod off, you wine-monkey!" Arthur growled, leaving the counter to sit at the table. Francis rolled his eyes, taking the kettle off the burner. He poured the steaming hot water into a teacup, adding a teabag. He took the cup to the table, placing it in front of Arthur.

"_Pardonnez-moi,_ Arthur, but you seem to be a bit ornery this afternoon." Francis said, sitting down adjacent to Arthur.

Arthur looked away, taking a long sip of tea, "I apologize…" He groaned, "Today has been my first day off in weeks. I'm terribly sorry, I didn't mean to call you names."

"It's no problem." Francis folded his hands together, resting his chin on his knuckles, "Your work must keep you awfully busy."

"I barely have time to take care of my own child these days, much less myself." Arthur continued after another long sip of tea. Francis got the idea that Arthur would much rather be drinking alcohol at that moment. "I've had to hire a nanny for Alfred, that's not such a terrible thing really. She is an old friend of mine, but of course I'd still like to see the little tyke for more than a few hours a day."

Francis nodded, finding himself strangely absorbed into the little things about Arthur, particularly the strange mix of frustration and devotion displayed in his eyes. "I know how you feel, Mon ami. My old job had me working such long hours that I wouldn't be home until long after Mattie was in bed."

"Your old job?" Arthur sat up, "Are you looking for one or have you just started a new one or…?"

"I've only been in London for a month or two now, I haven't been able to find a suitable position anywhere." Francis leaned back in his chair, anxiety slowly gripping at his heart as he remembered that his already sparse savings were dwindling.

"What kind of position are you looking for?" Arthur asked, drumming his fingers on the table.

"Any sort of culinary job, really…" Francis sighed.

"Francis, I think I've just managed to find a solution to both our problems." Arthur's tone changed to a cheerful one, his lips bearing a broad smile.

"Would you care to explain?" Francis asked doubtfully, returning a small grin in spite of himself.

"I've been working such ungodly hours because my kitchen is severely understaffed. I, well, my brothers and I, own the pub a bit up the road. Family business of sorts. You know, the one with the strange looking archer statue, The Bowman."

Francis smiled, immediately recognizing the name, "You're looking for a sous-chef, aren't you?"

Arthur furrowed his caterpillar eyebrows together, "How did you know?"

"I saw an ad for it in the newspaper, I was considering applying but then I became busy with Matthew and eventually forgot to call."

"That ad was rubbish anyway, no worries. It said to refer to Scott, right? He only runs the late night menus, he's really of no help at all." Arthur took a breath, his tone becoming eager but professional. "How long have you been in the culinary field?"

"About nine years, I've worked everything from a dish washer to an executive chef for a highly exclusive restaurant in Paris, the latter position being my last job."

Arthur smiled, "Blimey, you're good. I don't need to hear anymore. The job is yours."

Francis laughed, "Aren't you supposed to ask how responsible I am or if I have any outstanding felonies or something?"

"I don't think a man that cooks in a pink apron would have any outstanding felonies." Arthur sneered, motioning to Francis' apron that was still draped across the back of a chair.

"Fair enough." Francis chuckled.

"Will you be able to work afternoons and evenings? That's the most troublesome time of the day for us." Arthur asked, realizing he should have asked about the hours first.

Francis face fell, "Arthur, I would, but I have to be home when Matthew gets home from school. I don't have anyone that I trust enough to watch him every day."

"I understand, but it'll be difficult to get any other sort of job that works around that sort of schedule." Arthur paused for a moment, "Of course, I could always talk to Elizabeth, my friend, well nanny. I've known her for years and Alfred loves her, I wouldn't recommend someone who I wouldn't trust with my own son."

Francis considered it for a moment, "I'd like to meet her first, but if this can work out, I'd take the job right away."

"I'd be so grateful if you could take this job, I honestly would." Arthur said, his tone turning sincere. Francis watched Arthur through empathetic eyes.

"I'm not trying to pry, Mon ami, but how long have you been caring for Alfred on your own? Matthew mentioned that Alfred didn't have a mother…" Francis asked, his tone weary.

Arthur sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, "Oh, I suppose it's been months now." He sighed again, crossing his arms, "My wife ran out on me several weeks ago, with no warning, no plan. She decided that her needs were more important at the time, despite the fact that she was the primary caregiver in Alfred's life. I didn't hesitate in sending her the divorce papers the morning after." Arthur stopped himself, "I'm sorry, you don't need to hear all that, I've dumped enough on you already." He chuckled, though Francis could tell that he was hiding pain in those deep emerald eyes.

"Don't feel bad, Mon cher. It's not healthy for you, or for Alfred, if you hide your feelings all the time. You're his role model, it's important to teach your child how to let out their emotions in a healthy way." Francis smiled, softly patting Arthur on the shoulder.

"I suppose you're right…" Arthur chuckled again, his laughter a bit more genuine this time. "It's just so hard, you know?" He sighed, "First my marriage went down the shitter, and now my business is doing the same."

Francis got up for a moment to retrieve the macarons from the counter, "Keep your chin up, who knows what'll happen after I begin working with you, non?" Francis winked, placing the plate of macarons in front of Arthur, "Have another one, you look like you need it."

Arthur nodded, silently nibbling on one cookie after another. "What about you, Francis?" Arthur broke the silence after a moment, "Has it always been just you and Matthew? You have all it all so…pulled together…"

Francis smiled sadly, giving himself a moment before answering, "_Non_…it hasn't always been like this…" He took a deep breath, bitter tears developing behind his eyes, "I— We…my wife passed away last year, just before Mattie's seventh birthday…"

"I'm so sorry, Francis…" Arthur sat straight as a pin, sympathy inching into every corner of his heart, "I shouldn't have asked."

"It's alright, mon Cher. It would have come up at some point, I'm sure." Francis quickly reassured Arthur. "I've grown much closer to Mattie through everything, it's a terrible shame it had to happen this way, but…I'm grateful, in a way."

"Matthew is lucky to have a father like you, I'm not sure I'd have the strength to carry on like you have." Arthur smiled, doing his best to cheer up Francis.

"But, mon cher, you already have." Francis smiled, reaching over to squeeze Arthur's shoulder reassuringly.

Arthur chuckled, "Bloody hell, look at us." He laughed again, just a bit louder.

"Have you tried dating anyone new? That may be just what you need to move yourself forward." Francis winked again, getting up to make himself a cup of tea.

"Between work and taking care of Alfred, that option still hasn't really presented itself lately." He explained, an edge growing on his voice. "Though, can't say I haven't considered it." He took a long sip of tea as Francis watched him from the kitchen, "Besides, no one has really caught my fancy. It'd be a bloody awful waste of time."

"Arthur…" Francis began to ask, returning to the table with tea for himself, "Do you, as _les jeunes_ would say, play for the other team?" He smiled knowingly.

Arthur nearly choked and spit out his tea, "I beg your pardon?" He began to blush intensely.

"Gay, Arthur. Are you gay?" Francis asked, doing his best not to laugh at the mess Arthur had made.

"What the hell gave you that idea, you wanker?" Arthur yelled, hopelessly dabbing at his sweater with a napkin.

Francis was unsuccessful in containing his laughter, "You said that no had caught your eye, I thought it was relevant."

"Of everything that I have said this afternoon, _that's_ what you chose to lament on?" Arthur gave up on his sweater, throwing the napkin on the table. His cheeks were practically still glowing crimson.

"Oh, come on! You're in good company, why not discuss it? I'm bisexual myself, you know." Francis explained, his expression becoming dreamy. "I'm simply too gorgeous to deprive anyone of my perfect body!" He winked at Arthur yet again.

"Charming." Arthur grumbled, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "Fine, yes. I prefer gentlemen."

"Have I caught your eye then, mon cher?" Francis joked, picking another macaron from the nearly empty dish.

"I said _gentlemen._" Arthur narrowed his eyes, finishing the last bit of tea he hadn't spat on the table yet. "I'd hardly call you a gentleman after how you so elegantly asked about my sexuality."

"May I ask you another question, Arthur?"

"You've already got me to admit one of my darkest secrets, what else is there to know?" Arthur grumbled yet again.

"If you prefer men, how did you end up together with Alfred's mother?"

Arthur sighed, rubbing at his forehead. "It was a drunken decision in my university days…I—We…" He scoffed, "It's not like I did this sort of thing all the time, first of all. I was drunk, she was attractive. I brought her back to my place, one thing led to another, she became pregnant with my child." He began to run his finger around the rim of the empty teacup, "I couldn't just walk away from her after that, it seemed like the best way to handle things at the time. So, we got married and brought up Alfred the best that we could. She just decided that she couldn't handle it anymore, she felt it was unfair for her to live with a man she would never love and raise a child that she never wanted." He took a deep breath, "As far as I'm concerned, it's better this way. I don't want someone like that raising my child."

Francis smiled, staying quiet for just a moment, "What was that you said about not having the strength to carry on?"

"Fine, you were right _again_." Arthur spoke sharply but chuckled. He glanced at the clock on the wall, "I should probably be going, have to get dinner going and all that." He leaned back and sighed, "I'll look forward to seeing you at work sometime this week."

"Call Elizabeth and we can work something out." Francis laughed.

Arthur stood up, carefully pushing his chair back under the table. "Alfred! It's time to go!" His words were met with resounding disagreement from both children as they came down the stairs.

"You and Alfred are welcome back anytime." Francis said as Mattie came to stand next to him. He placed his hand lovingly on the crown of Matthew's head.

"Thank you!" Alfred jumped, making it difficult for Arthur as he attempted to get the small boy into his jacket.

"Stay still for just a moment, Al…" Arthur stood after he got the jacket zipped, now slipping on his own. "You and Matthew should stop over sometime, we live right down the street."

"Can we, Papa?" Matthew looked to his father, his little eyes gleaming.

"Of course!" Francis stroked Matthew's hair, his son giggling.

"YAY!" Alfred jumped again, throwing his arms around Mattie and nearly knocking them both over.

Arthur shook his head, taking Alfred by the hand and heading for the door. "Oh, Francis," He blushed again, looking away, "Thank you."

Francis gave a genuine laugh for the first time in a long while, _"De rien, mon cher."_


	2. Chapter 2

"Alfred, I don't think super powers work that way…" Matthew tried to explain to his friend, clutching his school bag tightly.

"Mattie, I'm telling you! Every super hero wears their underwear outside their pants! If I do it too, then I'll have super powers!" Alfred spoke wildly, his hands flying above his head.

Just as Alfred's chatter began to get out of hand, Elizabeth's car pulled up to the curb, "Hello, boys!" She threw open the door and popped the trunk, "How was school today?"

"Boring, like always!" Alfred smiled, practically throwing his school bag into the trunk of Elizabeth's car.

"I thought it was kinda nice…we read a story about why brushing your teeth is important…" Mattie started to explain, gently placing his bag in the trunk.

"That is very important. It's good that you boys are learning that now." Elizabeth smiled, giving both boys a quick hug before she got them loaded into the backseat.

"Can you make those weird cheese things again when we get to my house? They tasted soooo goooood!" Alfred laughed as he crawled into the back seat, Elizabeth checking to make sure his buckle was in place.

"I'll see what we have, but I'll make something good don't worry." Elizabeth giggled, closing the door on Alfred's side of the car. She circled around the back of the car and appeared on Matthew's side.

"Miss Elizabeth…?" Matthew asked, his voice reverting back to its usual soft tone.

"What is it, Mattie?" She smiled, clicking his seatbelt into place for him.

"Are we going to Alfred's house? My Papa never said…" He let his voice trail off as fear began to cloud his eyes.

She gave him the most soothing smile she could muster, "We're going to Alfred's house, yes. Your Papa has to work this afternoon, he usually will from now on. But now, you get to spend every afternoon with Alfred, it'll be fun!" She gently kissed Matthew's forehead.

"Yeah!" Alfred giggled, "We can do all kinds of fun stuff now!"

Matthew struggled to smile, though his anxiety began to let up, "Okay, yeah…"

Elizabeth started the car, "Your Papa will pick you up before you know it, Mattie. No worries, okay?" She pulled away from the curb and headed toward the center of town, "We're going to pass where your daddies work."

Matthew pressed his tiny face up to the window, "There!" Elizabeth pointed to a pub with a strange archer on the sign. He rubbed his nose as he removed his face from the cold glass, wondering what kind of day his father was having so far.

"Miss Elizabeth, do you think my Papa is okay?" Matthew asked, biting his lip lightly.

"I'm sure he's fine, sweetie. I'll be he's having a super great afternoon!"

Matthew let his gaze return to the window as he tuned out Alfred's chattering, his mind turning back to his anxieties and worries.

"_All right, Bonnefoy. Show me what you got." Arthur sat rather impatiently across from Francis, who was still revising his menus for that week._

"_All right…" Francis spoke with a pen cap between his teeth, removing it hurriedly, "Done. Here." He added the list he had just finished to a bigger pile of paper and slid it across the table to Arthur._

_Arthur read over it gingerly, his eyebrows furrowed together, "The bloody hell is this? We don't even serve half of these dishes!"_

"_You asked me to plan the menu, I did as you asked." Francis sighed, sitting with his legs crossed. "We don't have time to argue if this is going to be today's lunch menu. I need to train everyone and show them how to prep this menu by lunchtime, and it's almost mid-morning."_

"_Train?" Arthur slapped the revised menu back on to the table, "You've barely finished being trained yourself. You were supposed to plan with dishes my staff in mind." He shook his head, "I won't allow it. You are to re-plan this using menus from last week."_

"_There's no time for that, Arthur. By the time a new menu is finished, it'll take until lunchtime to prep it. That's no good, we must use what I have."_

"_You…" Arthur raised his voice to argue further, but he knew Francis was right. They had wasted too much time by arguing as it was, there was no time for any further delays. "You're lucky our lunch crowds are small, but there's still plenty of regulars that come in. If they're not happy with your food, we're going to have a problem."_

_Francis smiled confidently, "I know they're going to be more than happy with my food."_

"_Fine, whatever." Arthur waved off his words, feeling another stress-induced headache developing deep in the expanses of his skull. "I have to run this by Scott, do whatever you have to do to make this work." He turned to step into the office, "I'm going to need you to take a full report of this for Scott."_

"_I'll write something up this afternoon." Francis said, his back turning to Arthur, "All right, we've got a lot to do!" The way he commanded authority among the rest of the staff surprised Arthur, they had been teaching him how to work the kitchen just moments ago, "Lucy, I need you to begin prepping for today's soup, we'll be making a batch of London Particular. Richard, come on over here a moment."_

_Arthur shook his head again and closed the office door, sinking into the old and beaten chair that sat behind Scotty's desk. He could swear the chair was a day older than Stonehenge, it had belonged to his father, the patriarch of The Bowman. Scott nor Arthur had the heart to throw out their father's beloved seat._

_He sighed and picked the phone, dialing Scott's number and hoping he was home. Arthur cringed when he heard his brother yawn and answer the phone, "Who is this and what the hell do you want?"_

"_Scott, its Arthur."_

"_Oh. What do you need? Aren't you at work?" Scott sighed, disappointed. _

"_Of course I'm at work, what else would I be doing in the middle of a Tuesday morning?" Arthur scoffed, thinking that it was too early to regret getting out of bed that morning. "Francis didn't just plan the menu, he made a new one entirely."_

"_Francis? The French bloke you hired?" Scott laughed, "The one you barely did an interview for? What else did you think was going to happen, Arthur? He'll turn the place into a bloody mess, get him out of the kitchen."_

"_I can't do that to him, he's got a little tyke about Alfred's age." Arthur said immediately, an image of Matthew's shy smile coming to his mind, "And he's the best damn cook I've seen in years. He knows what he's doing, I just told him to run this stuff by one of us before he does it again."_

"_I don't care if he's the king of Sweden, I want him out of the kitchen, Artie. This is a business, we can't coddle every employee that hire by mistake." Scott's tone was rather serious, emphasizing his last word, but it held a gentle note, "Get him out of there by the end of the day, I'll help take the day shift."_

"_You can't make anything that hasn't been defrosted yet." Arthur continued to defend Francis, "I don't like how he's handling things either, but I think he deserves a chance." He sighed, "Dad would have given him a second chance. The Bowman was everything to Dad, do you want to sit here and watch her crash and burn?"_

_Scott remained silent for a moment, "Fine, I'll give him one chance. Only one. I'll be there in a few minutes. You'd better not be wrong about this guy, Artie."_

"_I'm not wrong." He scowled, "And don't call me Artie. Don't even bother coming in, you'll just get in the way. I've already told him to write up a report, I'll talk to a few of the customers after they've been served."_

"_If you have this handled and I don't have to work, I'm not complaining." Scott sighed contentedly, "Tell him I expect a full report, I want you to add what feedback you get."_

"_Okay, I'll talk to you later." Without waiting for a reply, Arthur hung up the phone with a huff._

_The rest of the morning passed rather smoothly, Francis was better at teaching others new recipes and reworking old ones than Arthur had expected him to be. He watched in awe as he watched Francis' demonstrations to the rest of the kitchen staff, even participating in a few himself. _

_The demonstrations and training made the morning pass by quickly, much to Arthur's chagrin. When he saw the dining room starting to fill with the regular lunch customers, Arthur pulled Francis away from prepping. _

"_We are about to open for lunch, what do you want at a time like this?" Francis asked, rather annoyed. He had apparently been taken out of his self-established rhythm. _

"_I just want to make sure you know what you're doing, you bloody git." Arthur answered in the same tone. Francis was doing nothing to calm his anxiety._

"_Are you insinuating that I don't?" Francis looked somewhat insulted._

"_Rubbish. Of course not. I'm doing you a favor right now, you know. Scott isn't happy about the menu." Arthur said, crossing his arms and shifting his weight to one leg. _

"_It hasn't even been served yet, what could he possibly be upset about?"_

"_How about changing it up on us without any warning?" Arthur exhaled, "I respect your skills, Francis, but I would like for you to run stuff like that past me before hand, if you wouldn't mind."_

_Francis nodded, his eyes diverging away from Arthur, "You're right, I apologize. I will be more considerate in the future."_

"_That's all I ask. Thank you, Francis."_

_To Arthur's surprise, the staff responded incredibly well to Francis' changes. The lunch service went by without a hitch and only minor complaints. _

_Francis watched through a window to the dining with a jeering grin as Arthur continued to interrogate their customers. When he was thoroughly satisfied that he wasn't going to get any negative responses, he retreated to Scott's office with a sullen yet reassured expression._

"_Arthur!" Francis knocked at the office door, "What was that you asked earlier? If I knew what I was doing?" He spoke in a teasing manner, chuckling to himself._

"_Go away, Frog. I'm writing the report for Scott." Arthur replied without opening the door, rifling through a desk drawer to find a bottle of painkillers._

"_Doesn't sound like it to me. I thought you wanted me to write it up." Francis inquired, leaning against the door._

"_Not anymore. You worked a miracle today, go back into the kitchen and work another one before Scott gets here." Arthur gave a victorious sigh of relief, snatching the much sought after painkillers from the last drawer he opened._

"_Are you sure? I could—"_

"_No, just go." Arthur sighed, popping a pill between his lips. "I need to talk to him before he sees you. Trust me, it's in both of our best interests."_

"_Fine." Francis said, lingering for a moment before he turned to go back to the kitchen, "If you need anything, just let me know, Arthur."_

Francis sighed deeply as his thoughts returned from the afternoon's lunch service. He removed a lighter from his pocket, stifling a cough as tobacco smoke was blown back in his face. The lunch service had been expertly handled by the kitchen staff and Scott had praised him for a job well done with the menu; however, that did not excuse him from being chewed out later for such a large change with no notice.

Arthur sighed as he opened the back door of the kitchen, empty liquor bottles clanging against one another inside the crate. His nostrils flared once he was outside, greeted with the foul odor of garbage and cigarette smoke.

"Watch it." Francis said, stepping out of the way of the opening door.

"Sorry, just came out to heave these. What are you doing out here anyway?" Arthur placed the second crate he was carrying down, surprised to see a cigarette between his lips, "I didn't know you smoked."

"I don't." Francis said, throwing the half-smoked cigarette on the ground. He extinguished it with the sole of his shoe. "Not usually, anyway." He picked up the crate Arthur had put down, throwing it in the dumpster for him.

Arthur grunted at he threw the other crate into the dumpster, "I wouldn't have pegged you as a stress smoker. I would think the smell would be too vulgar for you to associate with."

"It is an unfortunate stench and an awful habit, but fortunately I'm still beautiful." Francis winked, hoping to get Arthur to smile with a small joke.

"It's just plain unhealthy. You shouldn't even joke about it." Arthur leaned against the back wall of the building, his eyebrows knit together with concern.

"It's just how I deal with stress."

"Scott was just being a dumb arse when he was threatening to fire you, I wouldn't let him do that." Arthur tried his best speak in a comforting manner.

"Thank you, Arthur." Francis almost spoke sarcastically, "That would have been good to know hours ago, you know…"

"Well excuse me for not being able to find a moment between appeasing my twit of a brother and managing the rest of the staff." Arthur huffed, half tempted to ask for a cigarette himself.

"Yes, you are right…I apologize again." Francis spoke softly, keeping his words cut short.

"Is there something else bothering you? You sound rather knackered."

"It's Mattie…I just…I need this job…he's been so upset for so long…" Francis took a long, deep breath, "He smiles and laughs but his eyes are so dim, Arthur. He's all that I have left, and I can't even help him."

Arthur could have reached out to pat his shoulder, "Now that's a bloody load of rubbish if I ever did hear one." He spoke confidently, surprising himself and Francis, "I've rarely seen a parent that cares as genuinely for their child as you do."

Francis smiled, "I could say the same for you." He smiled, "You know, when I saw the boys together for the other day, that was the first time in a long while that Mattie smiled that big. Your little one is a blessing, Arthur."

"He is something else, isn't he?" Arthur smiled, love and pride swelling inside his chest. "Your little tyke is special too, Alfred usually doesn't take that much of a shine to someone so quickly."

"Speaking of our boys," Francis motioned to his watch, "I think it's time we relieve Elizabeth of her duties for today."

"Oh yeah, probably." Arthur chuckled, "I hope watching the two of them hasn't been too much for her."

"If her day went anything like mine, she could probably really use a stiff glass of wine right now." Francis said, opening the door for Arthur.

"That can be arranged for you, we do work in a pub, you know." Arthur snorted.

"Yes but then my judgment would be impaired, it'd be a travesty if a gorgeous _mademoiselle_ came to the counter. I might even flirt with you by mistake." Francis teased, prodding Arthur's side as he walked through the door.

"Oh sod off, you wanker!" Arthur's voice was drowned out by Francis' snickering.

They continued their argument into the kitchen to collect their belongings and through to where they had parked behind the pub, a sort of familiarity falling over the absent-minded bickering.

"Stop following me, Frog!" Arthur barked, yanking open the door to his car.

"Arthur, I parked next to you and my son is at your house. Where else am I supposed to go?" Francis chuckled as he got into his car, not waiting for a response from Arthur.

Arthur's home was a short enough drive to nearly blink and miss it, but not short enough for Arthur to give up on his conflict with Francis. He was thinking retorts he should have used hours ago the entire drive home.

Not a moment too soon, Arthur turned into his driveway as Francis parked on the street. Francis followed Arthur to the front door, admiring the charm of his home.

"Your house is beautiful, mon cher." Francis said, stopping for a moment to admire the pillars on either side of the front steps.

"It's something, I suppose." Arthur said, opening the door.

"Boys! Your daddies are home!" Elizabeth called from the kitchen, most likely cleaning up after dinner.

"DADDY!" Alfred yelled from somewhere in the back of the house, his thunderous footsteps approaching rapidly. To their surprise, Matthew appeared first and made a dash straight for his father's arms.

"Allo, mon petit." Francis crouched to give Matthew a kiss on his forehead as Alfred stumbled into the room.

"Daddy!" Alfred ran to give his father a hug, nearly toppling him over.

"Hello there, you little bugger." Arthur pulled Alfred into a tight embrace, "How was your day, huh? Cause a lot of ruckus as usual?"

"No! I didn't even get yelled at today! 'Cause Mattie and I were too busy being awesome!" Alfred giggled, spinning on the balls of his feet after pulling away from Arthur.

Francis held Matthew close, watching Arthur and Alfred through gleaming eyes. "Well, we should be going, Mattie. You need to be getting to bed soon."

"…Kay." Matthew nodded, reaching for his school bag by the door.

"Thank you for watching the boys, Elizabeth." Francis called to her in the other room.

"You're quite welcome, they're always a delight!"

Francis smiled, "Ready?" He asked, taking Matthew's hand. His little one nodded, giving a shy wave goodbye to Alfred.

"I'll see tomorrow morning." Arthur said, "Have a good night."

Francis smiled again, leading Matthew out the door. "You too, Arthur. _Bonsoir!_"

Once they had gone, Arthur removed his shoes and replaced them with house slippers. "Did you get all your homework done, Al?"

"Yep!" The little boy laughed, slipping his feet into his father's shoes.

"That's my boy. Now, why don't you run upstairs and change into your pajamas? I'll be up in just a moment to read you a story."

After several minutes of whining and complaining, Arthur finally managed to convince Alfred to go to bed. He sighed, joining Elizabeth in the kitchen.

"There's some leftovers from dinner if you're hungry, Arthur." Elizabeth said, drying dishes.

"No thank you, I had dinner with Francis earlier this evening. He may be annoying as hell, but damn can that bloke cook." Arthur groaned, throwing his head back.

"Sounds like you're smitten with him." Elizabeth teased, drying the last of the dishes.

"I am not!" Arthur protested, "I was just too tired to cook tonight, that's all!"

"Oh, my apologies then." She giggled, crossing her arms, "He must just be smitten with you if he offered to make dinner for you."

Arthur's cheeks turned red immediately, "Now hold on a second there, I—!"

"I was just teasing you, Arthur." Elizabeth smiled, "I should get going, Roddy will worry." She grabbed her purse from the table. "Good night." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before leaving the kitchen.

"Good night…" Arthur wearily returned the gesture, kissing his on the wrist. He locked the door after Elizabeth left, turning to lean his bank against the door. He sighed, allowing himself to slide most of the way down the door.

"There's no way Francis would ever be smitten with a minger like me." He sighed.

"DADDY! MY HEAD IS IN THE ARM-HOLE AGAIN!" Alfred called from upstairs, apparently having much difficulty getting his pajamas on.

Arthur gave a small smile and picked himself up off the floor, "I'm coming, Alfred. Don't hurt yourself."

"_Nope, Francis wouldn't fancy a minger like me in a thousand years," _Arthur reaffirmed to himself as he climbed the stairs, _"But what if I were to find myself smitten with him I wonder? I should save myself the pain and disappoint and just fall down these stairs right now." _

He tripped after his last thought, nearly making his theory a reality.


End file.
